


Fragrance of Us

by PhoenixFire_theWizardGoddess



Category: Marvel, Spiderman - Fandom, X-Men
Genre: Adult!Peter, Brief mention of the Fantastic Four, Consensual/NSFW, Frustration, In Love, M/M, Miscommunication, They're just angsty fucking idiots, White and black spidey suit, by request, desperate love, living in Stark Tower
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-12
Updated: 2019-11-12
Packaged: 2021-01-29 10:53:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,187
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21409012
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PhoenixFire_theWizardGoddess/pseuds/PhoenixFire_theWizardGoddess
Summary: Gift for Freshsalad. After spending time with the Fantastic Four, Peter Parker returns home to find his lover in a distraught state; frantic from the unusual uncertainty of being the one left behind. Spiderman must soothe the anxious beast...
Relationships: Logan (X-Men)/Peter Parker, Peter Parker/James Logan, Spiderclaw, Spiderman/Wolverine
Kudos: 28





	Fragrance of Us

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Freshsalad](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Freshsalad/gifts).

> Written at speed, for a good friend.   
Apologies, as it's not the best.

The heady buzz of the last few days tingled through his body, mind racing at the memories of fighting unfathomably powerful villains and saving the city at least twice in one long, sleepless stretch. Peter's pretty sure he passed out on the couch when they finally got back to the Fantastic Four's complex, but he can't actually remember it...

Just a general vague haze of confusion as he woke up, maskless and snuggled under a blanket covered with the team's official logo. That was a bit of a shock. So was the tray of stone-cold tea, slightly stale toast and blinding rays of sunlight peering through the window.

It'd been daybreak when he crashed... he thinks. Maybe he'd slept a handful of hours? A brief squinting glance around didn't find any clocks, but his brain finally kicks into gear as it registers the window. Outside the weak light showed it was only mid-morning. He immediately regretted allowing the blazing light access to his aching, sleep-encrusted eyeballs.

Of course a certain Dr Reed had pointed out immediately, upon realising the other was now awake, that _actually_ it was about thirty-six hours after the spiderling had crashed on their couch... and therefore, Spiderman should feel pretty well rested at this point. A jolt of panic had run up his spine at the thought... _fuck_, he was late. 

With hurried thanks and goodbyes, Peter had dashed out of the building and begun the tedious trek home. Certainly, the excitement of being part of a prestigous team was there; tinged with the warm internal glow that heroism and good deeds tended to ignite.  But still, there was a gnawing guilt, a worry that his barely-awake mind couldn't quie piece together. He needed to be _Home_. He needed to say _Something_ to _Someone_. The exact nature of _what_, and to _whom_, hadn't woken up yet. So Peter was running on instinct.

The wind whistled seamlessly past as he swung in long, graceful arcs over the city streets. Sometimes people called out a greeting and he's pretty sure he remembered to wave or cheekily salute at them... probably. His brain was a phone on like five percent battery, and the charger was halfway across this sprawling metropolis. He was doing his best.

Nearly there. Nearly there...

His feet landed on the familiar rooftop long before the acrobatic hero's mind decided to chime in their location. Never mind, he could find his way inside whilst blindfolded.  
It was like... following a tugging of the heart, really. A sense of home, of belonging, of... of-... uh, _Them_? That made sense to some poetic part of his mind, at least.

Peter just about walked into the door, and only the automatic habit of stopping to wipe his feet on their comical BEWARE OF DOG welcome mat, saved him the embarrassment. The key was on a chain around his throat, a sort of... symbol, a 'taking of home with him'; of knowing there was Somewhere to be when the fighting ended. Of knowing there was a Someone there to hold him when the blood and death and battle were through...

The door clicked open easily, and swung wide into a dark apartment building with an ominous whisper that seemed to echo in the deceptively small entryway.  Technically, they owned the whole damn building, and rented only the handful of ground floors out cheap to college kids and people in low-paying jobs that needed a safe place to crash. Directly below this floor was a well-furnished gym space they used to train.

Being the only ones up here definitely saved having to explain to nosey neighbour types why he was always 'dressing up' as spiderman and 'no it's not a weird kink', and so on.

_Maaaaaaaaaaaybe_ Stark had had a hand in accquiring the whole thing, but it just made sense to ask for some help on the matter. The documents alone required to get the damn place had been terrifying to behold, and thankfully Iron Man's legal team had swooped on the fine-print littered paper nightmares. Circling here, crossing there, rewording... finding hidden clauses and charges that would otherwise go unnoticed...

And so, it had come to be that Peter Parker was able to live freely, slinging his way off the roof without much issue most days. Huh, a millennial and a homeowner... an impossible fantasy for most, unless you had a 'billionaire sugar daddy', as he liked to say. Automatically making a certain someone else laugh, and curl a little closer around him... _just the tiniest hint of possessiveness in those sharp eyes..._

With a sharp intake of breath, Peter's mental fog lifted as he recalled the _Who_ he'd been missing from his memories. 

James... of course! JAMES! 

How in the hell had he forgotten...?

Actually, nevermind that... where was he?  The door clicked shut behind him, but Peter's hand never left the handle, eyes raking the dim room for any sign of life. The curtains were drawn, and the sun effectively shuttered out; like some sort of cave or something equally as primal.  Something slinks in the shadows to his right, impossibly hidden given how small the foyer was. He turned towards the... something, and found nothing awaiting in the shadows to his right; likewise, nothing lurked to the left. So where...?

His spidey sense was tingling with all the subtlety of an air-raid siren going off in his head, but not... quite in the way he was used to. Because some part of the acrobatic arachnid hero knew the Threat, the stalker, the predator... and_ they_ knew _him_. Inexplicably, he seemed to have this instinctual feeling that they would not harm him. Well, unless Peter asked... that is.

His deft fingers clicked the lock's latch shut behind him, and Peter strode deep into the gloom, towards the loungeroom. Hoping to see a flash of eyes or teeth or claws.   
That beautiful, feral bastard must be here somewhere.

"James?" he asked, tone firm as he glanced around and found no trace of the other man on the various furniture. Though certainly something had hibernated on the couch for the last few days... the blankets and food containers strewn over the coffee table attested to that. As did the open laptop, every visible tab on news sites, many with visions of the battles and video clips of various villains being defeated.

The spider sense sent a thrill of warning up his spine. "James...?" he called again, a little less certainly than before, striving to make out even a hint of the other.

It was the eyes that materialised first, and the sharp white teeth; mouth curled into an unpleasant snarl, as if he was the world's angriest cheshire cat.  Something sagged in relief within Peter's heart at the sight; even though something deep within his gut, in a churning mass of confusion, fear and uncertainty. 

"James?" he can't help but ask in a querulous tone, certain only of the identity of the person before him... though not the mood they were in.  It had been a long time since something had coaxed such a strangely feral response from the man. Wolverine was almost always in control of himself, so he could never hurt anyone by accident; only by design, in battle, when he had evil to thwart.

"You... were gone." comes the growled accusation, as Logan looms from the darkness, swathed in ominous shadows. "You were gone so long... after the battle was over... that I thought-..."

The words seemed to fight their way through his clenched jaw, as if they hurt to express. Well, James had never been fantastic at naming his emotions... centuries of being used as a weapon would do that to a man, after all.  But this... this was atypical, even for him.  If James had been a cat, his ears would have been flat against his skull, mouth open and hissing at him with hackles raised. The silence between them roiled with the unsaid accusations inherent in the statement, the loss and grief and fear... 

The unsaid plea to never do such a thing again. The certainty that they both would one day. The hard, wild gaze that ran over his body from top to toe in utter distaste...  James took a hissing intake of breath and seemed to lean away from Peter, who had -to be fair- only woken up about half an hour before and was very confused at the situation in which they were now both thoroughly embroiled.

"James, I'm sorry... after the fight, well _Fights_, I just kind of... fell on my face on the _Fantasti-couch_, and woke up like an hour ago. I thought it was a few hours, but like... apparently it was waaaaaay more than that." Peter explains, shrugging, not sure what else to say but the truth. No one can get mad over the truth... well, they could, but he'd prefer the other didn't.

There was another inhalation, and Peter realised that he was being scrutinised from a scent-based perspective. he fought the urge to throw his arms around himself in a comedic show of modesty and make some quip about 'Not being that kind of guy!' because he sensed it wouldn't help matters right now.

James' mouth turned down in displeasure. "You smell like them... all of them. They're crawling all over you..."

To anyone else, it would have sounded like a very specific type of accusation... but Peter knew Logan far better than that. He knew what was really being said, being asked, being requested with a degree of hesitation.

He tilts his head. "Then you should probably fix that..." Peter responds, sinking into the welcoming arms that immediately encase his slightly battered body. Rest was great but it didnt do mch for a bruise the size of a wreckingball on your ribs, where some villain-of-the-week had punched you through a building for the hell of it.

Rough fingers worked their way under the lip of the mask where it met neck, and Peter tilted his head back to help it slide off... only to choke out a cry of confusion as the fabric was rent in two and hurled away. His protest stifled into a soft moan as hands combed through his hair in just the right way; his lover's warm, familiar mouth pressed firm, decisive kisses from temple to jaw.  Nipping slightly at the sharp angles of his throat until Peter's skin tingled from the sensation. Rough stubble a strange but nonetheless pleasurable highlight to the newly-awakened flesh.

"_Nnngh!_" he mumbled, as sharp teeth bit deep into the juncture between throat and shoulder, drawing blood and tearing away a large chunk of the white suit. Peter wanted to protest but... _ah! Fuck_... the rough cat-like tongue laved over the area in a strange mix of pleasure and pain that went straight to his awakening cock.  The heat in his crotch was starting to fill his body, like liquid fire, spreading a pleasant tingle everywhere. Like a spidey sense but for... well, being horny, he supposed. Hard to use your brain for thnking, when all the blood in your body was rushing downwards, after all.

James' hands were on his shoulders, kneading and groping as best he could for the odd position, and then tearing the suit free. Bearing Peter's shoulders and some of his chest; allowing access to the unfairly-sensitive nipples underneath. Logan barely gave the other a chance to breathe before attacking them; sharp teeth tracing shivering flesh in direct counterpoint to the wet, sucking heat of his mouth teasing the buds. 

Peter thinks he swears, but his mouth is busy hanging open, lost in the feeling of the other trying to impress himself on Peter's flesh. To make them One after such a serious separation... to bind them in mixed scent so that they would carry one another deep in their skin, even in battle, and far away.

Sharp blades trailed teasingly down his chest and abdomen, shredding the fabric thereand stopping only just above his crotch, the member beneath clearly visible and straining to be free. Logan's bristled cheek makes the muscles of his abdomen twitch, as the mutant kisses his way down the treasure trail.

Hands idly stripping the other's suit from his arms and hands; freeing him inch by painful inch. James knelt now, hands a tight embrance on Peter's thighs as he pressed a kiss to the trapped erection slowly weeping arousal on the white fabric containing it. His sharp blue eyes glance up to capture Peter's, as he leans in again to mouth at the swollen crotch. Watching attentively as the acrobat shuddered... trying hard to hold down a rather obscene sound.

James tugged, tearing the remaining white suit from the taut body beneath, and destroying it utterly. Peter wanted to grieve for the broken gift... but this was more important. This reconnection, this... rekindling.  Besides, Reed could make him dozens of suits just like it in a heartbeat, if he wished it; so why worry? But still, he felt bad to have had such a wonderous gift destroyed within a week of receiving it. 

The sudden freedom of his aching member, as its containment finally broke into shreds, caught his full attention. The cool air of the room, the hot breath gusting over its heavy, bobbing tip... his body shuddered, and his heart pounded as the tendril of lust began to take a firm hold.

"_Please..._" he whispers, not entirely sure what he begged for, but knowing that anything would be welcome. His query was met with a broad lick from base to tip, and then a second, from the man kneeling before him. James' own f ly open and his thick, heavy cock protruding; weeping obscenely onto the carpet at the very idea of taking Peter into his own mouth. Of worshipping the other with his own body, as only a lover can...

Thick and rough, the hand that curls about his member; pumping slolwy to spread the saliva and slick precum down the shaft. A tongue, rough yet sinfully knee-trembling in sensation, twirled about the head as it bobbed obscenely close to James' lips. Begging entrance...

Unexpectedly, James rose slowly, sliding off his shirt and tossing it aside in a single luid movement; jeans falling away in a fascinatingly casual manner that Peter was starting to think was well-rehearsed before a mirror. How had Logan achieved it? 

_Centuries of practice, no doubt_. Peter absently thought.  Coherence and mental clarity fading as his eyes mapped the familiar terrain of muscle and scar tissue, of broad features, and aroused flesh. 

James advanced, collecting Peter and taking a few additional slow steps until the acrobat's bare back was pressed against the wall. James kissed him deeply, hand cupping Peter's head and cradling it close, tenderness and fear mingled together in the press of their lips. The anguish, the unending silence and his helpless inability to contact the webslinger after seeing him take a violent pounding from titans of the villain world... 

The despair of wondering if he would never come home... and the way it raised his hackles to have his lover return smothered by the scent of others, wearing _their_ clothing. It was like a betrayal that Logan just couldn't find the right human words to explain. Instincts _wanted_... and so, with permission, he had tried to make it right again.

With a free hand, Logan aligned them and ground deeply. The friction teetering between pleasure and pain as they rocked against one another; haphazardly slicking the way as their arousal grew.  Seeking more, Peter angled his throat to the other, inviting further marking and pressed closer still. Dextrously hooking his legs around the muscular hips and grinding; James' member was pressed rigid against his own stomach at this point, desperate for the attention, and Peter's cock had no trouble gliding against it.

Strong arms encased his form, and Peter curled around the other as he felt plasure begin to crest. Their hips rutting against one another like it was a battle to reach the end first...

He could feel his body tensing for it, heightening from the sensation of every nip and kiss James placed on his flesh. His legs clung tighter, shuddering reflexively as his climax exploded through him with a startling speed; come spurting obscenely between them, coating their abdomens and providing extra slick for James's furiously thrusting hips. The mutant desperately chasing his own cresting pleasure, whole body shuddering as his orgasm strikes, his completion accompanied by a bone-rattling growl.

Peter felt the other coat his chest with hot, thick come; eyes latched onto the beautiful, rapturous expression on Wolverine's normally gruff features. So open and tender as the acrobat pointedly ground against his lover, trying to draw out the pleasure as long as he could. He could feel his own cock start to stir once more, body already recovering even as Logan's body went lax against him; pressing them both firmly against the wall as each panted into the other's ear.

Their bodies were a sweaty, sticky mess and it mixed between their chests in a truly terrible way. Peter wanted to laugh, and suggest a shower; but turning his head to the right told him that would not be appreciated just yet. There was a self-satisfied wolfish grin on James' face, and the panting had slowed to a more pointed inhalation, a scenting if you will. 

God... what a dork. Why did he love him again?   
With a chuckle, he brushes his cheek againt James' stubble like a cat to make his point. "Do I smell 'right' again, now Mr Big Bad Wolf-verine? Or do you need me to marinate in... well, 'us' for a bit longer before I can have a shower?" he teases, brushing fingers through their combined mess and poking the other man in the chest.   
  
Rolling his eyes, James pulls back, mouth open to retort; but it dies on his lips, transformed into a groan as Peter's persistent grinding, and unfairly powerful thighs, found a new angle at which to reawaken his softening flesh. "Y-yes!" Wolverine manages in a slightly strangled tone, shuddering as his own thick, heavy shaft began to reawaken once more. Super-healing could be a bitch when it decided to leave bullets inside, but sometmes... being able to recover rapidly from round one was its own little super power.

Catching James' eye, Peter ran a finger through the cooling mess on his lover's chest, slicking it well and allowing the come to pool on his fingers a moment before moving to the next step. The dextrous digits teased at his shaft before trailing down his balls, making a display of rolling them in his palm before dipping them beneath; fingertips circling his eager hole as he sighed. "_Ah... fuck... yes..."_ he mumbled, in a slightly exaggerated tone as his fingers slipped inside; and Peter rocked his own hips against the familiar sensation. 

Making such a shameless display of murmured enjoyment that James almost immediately took over, desperate to put his hands on the other and be part of bringing the webslinger pleasure.  Using come to slick the rough fingers, Wolverine probed his entrance with the expert ability of one with experience in reducing the acrobat to a shaking mess with only a few clever little gestures... 

Peter's thighs swiftly began to shake with open, wanton need.  "James... please... I'm... I'm ready, now." he moaned, rocking frantically against the heavy press of three-, no _four_, fingers within. They withdrew, with a pert, wet-sounding slap to his unfairly perfect asscheek.  James pumped his throbbing erection, letting it tease past the waiting hole several times as the mutant chose to press kisses and nips across whatever flesh he could reach. Waiting until he could feel Peter tremble with barely contained lust and need in his arms; marvelling at the way the other's sweat-clicked, flushed face practically glowed as their eyes once more locked.

"I need you inside me, James... please..." Peter managed to say, panting, and feeling empty in the worst possible way. 

James pressed a kiss to his lips, a sweet counterpoint to the cock thrusting deep within the willing hole, as he said, "Anything for you, my love." 

Peter tilted his head back and groaned, filled to the brim with his lover, his heart pounding, and desperate for more. Everyt single time felt new and exciting... but this time felt... more intimate. Like it was binding them in a way he could never find the right words for.

"You alright, Petey?" Logan mumbled by his ear, clinging tight to the other and not moving even an inch, waiting for a signal.

"Y-yes... fuck, so good. I love your thick cock, James... please, more." Peter returned, feeling the heat rise through him, knowing that he'd be far too embarrassed to voice such a... sultry statement, with anyone else. But this man knew him through and through; inside and out, too, if it came to that.

"I got you, babe." Logan returned in a low, strangely-erotic growl that sent tingles of electricity to his cock. It twitched avidly between them as James began to thrust, slow and deep, each one feeling as if it knocked the air from Peter's lungs.

"Fuck..." he breathed, moving his arms behind to press against the wall and gain more leverage. Peter yelled as he found the right angle, and Logan complied by adjusting to meet this unspoken request.

And then stilled. "Put your arms above your head." 

Not questioning, Peter complied, palms vaguely holding onto a portion of his own weight to take the strain as James pressed a supernaturally strong hand over his crossed wrists. Effectively pinning him there, though both knew full well Peter could free himself with an idle shrug if he wished. 

The thrusts resumed, ramping up in intensity until the heat pooling in Peter's abdomen was almost unbearable; pleasure thrilled through him with every grinding thrust against his prostate, and the acrobat panted as he fought to hold on a little longer in this pleasureable purgatory.

"Pete-y... I'm gonna..." James warned, the heavy need in his voice surprising them both as his hips slapped erratically; heavy balls clapping against pert cheeks with every deep, sharp thrust. 

Rocking back to meet every pump, and clenching deeply in encouragement, Peter grinned. "Come inside me, James... make me yours from the inside out." he teased, continuing to rock desperately, chasing his own climax in an abstract way. 

Peter's eyes were transfixed on the desperate, pleasured yet frantic expression of the man before him as Logan  thrust deep within, chasing the last possible sparks of his inflamed passion.  He felt the other lose control, thrusts iregular and erratic as pleasure crashed over him; come spurted deep inside, and trickled out in a mess with each rapid pumping of hips. It dripped down the acrobat's crack obscenely, and Peter felt... well, it was like being told he'd achieved a job well done. 

He ground against James, milking the thick cock dry with his rhythm and internal contractions, until the other's knees began to shake. James let his head fall forwards to rest on Peter's chest as he breathed raggedly, seemingly drained by the lovemaking and needing a moment.

His own cock was throbbing between them, and it was hard to ignore with the other man's hot, wet breath gusting over the desperate shaft. But he could wait.

James cock slipped free, and Peter frowned in confusion as his lover moved back; silently encouraging the other to stand on the floor and follow. Well... his arousal was slowing to an ember, but it would be worth it. Always was.

In the kitchen, Logan swiped the island counter free of mess and kissed Peter fiercely, teeth drawing blood from those beautiful lips. "Make me yours, brat..." he goaded, a challenge in his eyes.

Peter felt himself rise to the occasion again, just the suggestion sent a wave of something through his body... his hand tangled in Logan's hair and he yanked back the other man's head, exposing the throat. Peter bit, deeply. 

James inhaled, and moaned, letting himself be slammed against the island bench. Peter kissed him fiercely, and spun the other around, pining the man to the island with a hand to the back of James' nape.  His long, heavy cock rubbed suggestively through muscular cheeks as he leant down to whisper. "I think I'm going to take you, right here and now, and fill you to the brim until everyone knows you belong to me."

Bold words coing from a man covered in bite marks and with Logan's come leaking from his ass... but still, it seemed to be the right thing to say.

"Use me, then..." came the grumbled reply. Wolverine's cock wasn't ready for another round, but it did twitch in interest, at the least, as Peter used his free hand to collect the still-warm slick running down his thighs, and slide them within James's puckering hole.

He thrust them deeply, scissoring and twisting, pressing just shy of the man's prostate and teasing just the same. Peter delighted in the way James moaned, his legs trembling as the third finger was added. Begging Peter to enter him... make Logan his own.  Withdrawing his hand, Peter slicked his own shaft, twisting languidly on the head of his cock for the pleasure of it. He spat on the fluttering hole, as it sought his member, and watched the spittle dribble obscenely downward. 

He pressed his cock to the entrance, steadying himself, and pushed inside. Peter gasped as his arousal rampe up a notch at the sensation of the tip being engulfed by something hot, tight and welcoming.  James pushed back and stole another inch, letting out a long, slow moan as Peter took the signal to press in deeply. Not stopping until he was seated tightly inside; James' hole clenching around the base of his slick shaft, and balls all but slapping against Logan's own.

"Mmm? Like that, huh?" he asked, leaning down over the other, so he could press them close together and whisper in James' ear. 

"Yes... please, fuck me, bub. I'm losing my mind here." Logan tried to rock back but there was nowhere to go, so he clenched the cock nestled within just to hear the startled gasp. "C'mon brat, make me yours..." 

Peter pulled his hips back, pressing kisses down the parts of Logan's spine he could reach, as his tip almost slid free... and slammed back in deeply. James tried to arch in surprise, but Peter was in the way; and all he could do was rock in counterpoint to the sensation. He was pinned down... Peter was in charge.

Peter felt his earlier arousal burst back into life like an inferno inside; he' been so close earlier; but he didn't want to disappoint James by coming too early.  The other man's cock was twitching in interest but not yet returning to the field of play. He could probably wait it out...

"Petey... I need you to come in me, it's important. Can feel you getting all methodical and shit back there, trying to get me hard and get me off again... cause you hate not being fair and all." James grumbled, like he was the world's greatest mindreader, _but only when someone was so deep in his ass their balls slapped like a bass drum on his cheeks_. "We can fuck another ten times in the next hour... so don't worry about me, I need ya... to just... _fill me_... please..." 

It did go against the acrobat's nature to be selfish... but... fuck, when your lover says something like that, in a broken tone... 

It's a wonder he didn't shoot his load and die right there.

"If you're sure, James, I just wanna-..."

"Get me off. I know. I get it... but this is important t'me too. Gotta balance us out again so it feels right and all. 'Sides, I love knowing you've marked me somewhere no one else can..." James grinned, turning his head to look back at the acrobat with a sparkle in his eye.

One that sent frissions of pleasure crawling down Peter's spine and right into his tightening balls. He considers the statement, and returns the grin.

He spanks the man's ass cheek, just because it is close to hand, and uses the other to tilt the man's hips slightly. 

James groans deeply with every sharp, deep thrust; his cock dribbling between them as it returned to life. Something the other couldn't have even imagined possible for another half hour at least, were it not for the pinioning pressure of Peter pistoning into his body, sending all sorts of signals to his confused brain... and much less confused prostate.

A hand closed about his thick length, pumping furiously as the sound of wet slapping filled the room; panting breaths and stifled moans occasionally breaking the rhythmic sounds. Without warning, Logan's entire body shuddered to a climax as he gasped out his lover's name, body curling about the pumping hand as it coaxed every last drop from his body.

James dropped into a lax, pleasantly post-coital state upon the bench top; feeling the impaling cock juddering erratically; his insides clenching it furiously as the orgasm rumbled through like a frieght train taking no prisoners whatsoever.  Peter's rhythm was stumbling, his arousal peaked and frantic for release. Hands gripping James's waist so tightly it would bruise as he fought to bury himself as deep as possible each time... the climax approached with all the subtlty of thor's hammer striking, and he cried out an incomprehensible string of almost-words as he came. 

Blinding light in his eyes, and the hot pressure that had filled his body to bursting with boiling potential pleasure, finally exploding free in a crescendo of frantic slaps and slick come filling James from the inside out. Hot, viscous liquid slicking the slowing thrusts, and dribbling between them to ultimately make a mess neither wanted to consider until later. 

Peter's body felt shaky and shiny as he finally slowed to a stop, flopping atop James, still buried to the hilt within. 

"_Fuck..._" he breathed, pressing a kiss to Logan's nape, and curling around him. "You alright?" he asked, uncertainly, worried at having been too rough. 

James laughed. "Best hour of my life so far, love... and," he paused as if tasteing the words to find the right combination. Finally ending up with, "now you smell right... and so do I. Like _US_. If that makes sense."

It did... and it didn't. But he nodded. 

Whatever made James feel at ease... he would happily go along with. 

In a moment they would rise, disengage, try not to look at the obscene destruction they'd wrought on their home, and then kiss again for the sheer pleasure of it. But for the moment, skin-to-skin and connected intimately, it was enough for James to know Peter was there. Alive and safe, and as much his, as he was Peter's.

They were right where they needed to be.


End file.
